


Come to Mama

by Mightymightygal



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, I don't know, Maybe more to come - Freeform, Mild Language, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Post-Blind Betrayal, Smoking, So sweet it may give toothache, Sole tries to befriend Maxson with a comic book, Underage Drinking, give that boy some friends, give that boy some love, overprotective Sole Survivor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 14:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10492461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mightymightygal/pseuds/Mightymightygal
Summary: Months ago, Nora Miller left the Brotherhood of Steel, right after she'd been promoted to paladin.Now she's back on the Prydwen, but she's not there to fight or negotiate. Nope.She's back to mess with Arthur's head.And his gloves. Because she seriously hates these gloves.





	

The Elder’s quarters were just as she remembered:  austere and ill lit, crowded with ammunition crates and half-drunk liquor bottles. Despite their stark military cleanliness, a faint scent of smoke, weapon grease and teenage dorm always lingered in the air. And yet, Nora liked it, for she knew that in the darkest corners of the massive and rusty steel cabinet, a few worthless belongings told a lot about Arthur, the kid that still hid in the Elder’s shadow.

Her fingers grazed the chessboard and the cigar box where she knew he stored the mismatched chess pieces he used to play. Behind the baseball glove and autographed ball, she found a small photo frame supporting drawn portraits of a tall, severe looking man and a graceful, frail blue eyed woman. Both were young and wore mended, stained pre-war clothes, and she guessed from their features that they were Arthur’s parents. She was about to check on the folded American flag when the door opened behind her, and she turned around to face Arthur Maxson.  
  


“Elder.” She greeted him with a nod, her chin tilted up to look at the tall man’s face.  
  


He looked at the frame she still held in her hand, and confiscated it with an icy glare.  
  


"It seems I've already told you to keep you hands off my personal belongings, Miller." he growled, putting the picture back where it belonged.

"I'm sorry, but I guess you'll have to order that at least one more time, Elder." she sassed, her arm casually resting on the back of a chair, and he offered her to sit down.

“How must I call you now?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of broad chest, “Paladin Miller? Or General, maybe?”

 

She smiled a little at his frown. Damn, how hard was he trying to look stern… Thinking of the man on the portrait, she knew where that came from, now.

 

“Maybe we could stop this little standoff and just stick with Arthur and Nora?” she offered, and his back stiffened, as if she’d insulted him.

“I don’t see why I should indulge that sort of familiarity.”

 

Her smile widened a little.

 

“Because you know I’m the only one you can offer to consider as an equal. Because I, too, am a warlord, a creature of duty and stifling responsibilities, and much like you, I am the last of my kind.”

 

He stared at her, gauging her confidence, and finally sat in front of her and lit a cigarette.

 

“We have nothing in common.” He stated, and he blew his smoke aside, away from her face, she noticed, the polite little boy.

 

She took the flip lighter on the table and traced the engraving with her fingers. It stated “072389” and two letters, M and R.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” said Nora, her attention still on the old lighter in her hands, “maybe you never feel lonely and overwhelmed with that duty you never asked for in the first place. Maybe you never miss you chess partner, and maybe you drink that much just because you enjoy the filthy taste of that rotgut you post-war wastelander dare to call whiskey…”

 

She flipped the lighter open and lit herself a cigarette, too, mimicking Arthur without looking away from his face. She knew she’d hit him a little hard this time, she could tell from the way he suddenly avoided to look her in the eyes.

 

“What do you want?” he asked her, his voice almost defeated already.

“You break my heart every time I look at you, Arthur.” Nora admitted, brushing her hair away from of her eyes.

 

He knew that gesture well, he had seen it before.  It was a mannerism of hers, when she was nervous. He remembered it well, for she hadn’t stopped to do just that when he had given her the very last mission she had accepted from the Brotherhood…

A mission she’d ended in defiance. A mission he had promoted her for.

 

“Maybe you already know that, but before all of this, before the cryopod in the vault,” she went on, her gaze now wandering on the iron ceiling, “I was a lawyer, and a talented one. My job was to make sure people had a chance to defend themselves in trials, to make sure our dysfunctional justice still showed some equity, and didn’t convict innocent people for crimes they hadn’t committed.” She put her chin on her left fist, eyes gazing in space, lost in her memories of a time long since gone. “I did even defend a fair amount of scumbags, you know… They were guilty as fuck, no doubt, but they still deserved to be treated as human beings, and judged as such, according to the law, and not victim of someone’s personal grudge.”

 

Her eyes focused on him again. Her full mouth stretched in a gentle, protective smile, and she tilted her head on the side a little. He didn’t knew where she was going, and yet he wasn’t sure he would like it. He poured himself a glass of liquor, put the bottle back on the table, only to take it back after a few seconds to pour her a glass, too. Then he closed the bottle for good and let out a deep sigh.

 

“I guess this explains your attitude towards…” his voice stopped dead in his throat, and he drowned the name in a sip of burning alcohol.

 

Danse.   
Even months after the betrayal, he was still unable to say his name.

 

“I’m not here to talk about him for now.” She eased him. “I came to talk about you.”

 

They stayed silent for a moment, and her hand reached for his, stopping just inches away from the knuckles his fingerless gloves left bare. He backed off, avoided her hazel eyes as much as he could, rubbed his bearded cheeks with both palms, and finally he muttered a curse before putting his free hand down, right back on the table, just over Nora’s.

She locked her eyes with his as she entwined their fingers, her thumb softly brushing over the rough fabric of his mitten. It took him a fair amount of willpower to resist the urge to close his eyes and lean into the touch like a starving cat. Yet, when she lifted their entangled hands and brought them closer from her face, he secretly hoped for a moment that she would allow herself to kiss or suck the tip of his fingers.

She didn’t. Instead, her thumb slid to his wrist and under the stiff fabric, and the strokes went on, now directly to his skin. Maybe his secret wishes were about to come true, he thought, maybe that untamed prewar pinup he’d so dreamt about was about to subdue to his darkest fantasies…

When eventually she opened her mouth to talk, he felt so needy he would have accepted whatever she would have asked, aside, maybe, from what she _did_ ask:

 

“More than two hundred years and these worthless things still exist… Could you please explain me the point of wearing fingerless gloves, honey?”

 

Arthur’s mouth gaped and he stopped blinking for a good second. It felt like an ice cold shower, only far more unpleasant. Nora chuckled and asked him:

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Did you come to comment on my gloves? And did you just called me “honey” as if I was your five years old child?” he replied her with utter disbelief, suddenly taking his hand back. Nora would have sworn his ears had turned slightly red.

 

She exhaled one last cloud of smoke and crushed her cigarette in the ashtray.

 

“Did I really call you that? I’m sorry, Arthur.” She replied, and he knew she wasn’t sorry at all.  “It’s just that, sometimes, all your frowning and beard stop fooling me and I remember that you’re only twenty or so.”

 

Now he felt blatantly insulted. He stood up and put both his hand flat on the table, leaning over her and glaring at her so intensely it felt like each and every pore of his body was trying to impress her. Nora smiled again, but this time, it was a lopsided smile he’d never seen before, and he would have bet she’d flashed him an admiring look if he had not been that certain she would never stop treating him as some unworthy kid.

 

“You may take pride of your old age, General” he sassed her, “but remember that no matter how younger I am, and no matter how hard you try to patronize me, this…” with a harsh move he showed her all that surrounded them, “…this; this entire world, is mine. I was born here and I know all of it way much more than your idealistic pre-war views could ever comprehend.”

 

Nora was mesmerized by his passion, his confidence. She swallowed her full glass of liquor to stop her from biting her lips in want, and winced when the bitter taste lingered on her tongue and the burn slid down her guts. Then, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up to him.

 

“Sit down, Arthur, I’m not over yet.” she ordered him. His icy blue eyes were so full of resentment she wasn’t sure he would not kick her out of the room, or maybe he would slit her throat open instead. So she scratched at her neck and said in a softer tone:

“I came here to get to know you, okay? I’m neither here to negotiate a peace treaty between our armies, nor to ask your help in some war, but because I was worried for that twenty-something-years old man I’d left alone in that fucking iron cage a few months ago. I felt bad, so very bad for leaving you behind. Now, maybe I’m wrong and maybe you don’t need me, but at least I offered you what I wanted to give you.”

 

His eyes flashed at her but finally he sat down, cooling his temper. She noticed the slight pout on his lips and she held her smile back, not wanting to offend him any further, but she still found him too cute to be called “Elder”.

 

“What if I refuse?” he asked her, his pride still scratched from the humiliation he’d just felt.

 

“I’ll return to my Castle alone and without giving you that Grognak the Barbarian comic book I had brought for you, as a proof of good will…”

 

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and exhaled out slowly. He was sure Danse had told her about his fondness for Grognak… He shook his head, and glared back at her:

 

“Yourself and a comic book, is that all you have to offer?”

 

“My lovable company and a _pristine_ comic book is all I have to offer, _for now_.” she corrected him with a playful wink.

 

He was still frowning, but it seemed that for a moment, his lips twitched, the poor shadow of a smile he was holding back.

Nora knew from that very moment that she really wanted to see that smile, some day.

 

Arthur clenched his fist and remained silent for a while, faking an intense reflection. Of course, she had won already, and he hated the fact that she perfectly knew it. She’d won from the moment she’d open-heartedly talked to him.

 

Aside from Sarah and Danse, Nora had been the first to care for him, the normal boy inside the elder’s coat. He couldn’t fool himself enough to ignore that, just like he’d fell in love for the two of them, a platonic love that still burned and ached in the most secret corner of his heart, he wouldn’t help but fall in love with her too.

 

It was risky as fuck and he wished he could be proud enough to refuse, but when he looked at her face and her sweet hazel eyes locked with his gaze, daring to face him as an equal, he gave up with a sigh.

 

“Fine, for now, I'll take it. Now, tell me more about that comic book…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay in fact, Nora didn't let him talk that much, or he didn't want to, I dunno.
> 
> It may require a sequel, if I feel I'm up to it, and if you want to read it.  
> And this time they'll talk for real.  
> And maybe share a kiss. Or two. Or more.  
> They'd like that, the little pricks they are.
> 
> And if you're wondering: yes, this Sole is the same Nora Miller you can read in my other work, Curie(o)sity. 
> 
> Now, serious bullshit:  
> Canon!Maxson in Fallout 4 is a racist authoritarian leader blah blah, okay, I get that, I even agree.  
> But canon!Maxson from Fallout 3 was the cutest kid in the world, and he broke my heart. And I can't unlove someone I wanted to hug that bad.  
> So here it the thing: I really think he'd been a better man with some love.  
> Call me a Disney princess or a shojo magical girl but I do think that love is essential to make decent human people. (And not only romantic love of course, but I mean love parental love, or friendship, or pets, or self-esteem or, you know, even just the look and nod and smile you give to that nerd-you-barely-know who reads the same comic book as you do.)
> 
> So, ahem, to end it before it turns really awkwardly cheesy, give yourself and all the people you care about some love and may you receive at least as much love as you give.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Mightymightygal - also on tumblr: mightymightygal.tumblr.com


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